Threlkeld to Keswick

by Miss Penny Black

With the opening of the Threlkeld to Keswick railway footpath, today was definitely going to be my easiest day of walking yet.

The pub Id stayed at in Threlkeld was even more dog-friendly than all the other places I’ve been; treats, water and towels to wipe the dogs down.

I had a perfect Cumbrian breakfast at the Horse and Farrier and would love to return there on my next trip. The service was so good and the food was excellent! I’d highly recommend it to anyone coming to the area. Also it was the first place I’ve stayed to have USB points in the room, which was very handy. On the way out of town I took photos of some of the classic Lakeland buildings.

Some cute yarn-bombing at the local cafe.

The rail trail is 5km long and very flat but winds through some gorgeous scenery. It wasn’t open last time I was here due to storm damage, so I’m glad it was part of the trip this time.

Near the start I walked past two older gentlemen who stood gazing at the view. I stopped for a moment and said ‘It’s perfect,’ and one of them turned around and solemnly nodded and said in a very northern accent ‘Aye, it is,’ and I felt like we understood each other perfectly. Japan has popularised the concept of ‘tree bathing’ – going out in forests and soaking in nature. There’s definitely a similar feeling here. Just people staring at the scenery and soaking it up like they’re a battery being recharged.

I was definitely heading against the flow as the number of people walking towards me increased towards Keswick, the tourism hub of the northern lakes. For the first time I got a bit over saying ‘Good morning’ to everyone I passed. Well, except to one older fellow and his elderly dog. Somehow we managed to be walking in the same direction and first I passed him while he was giving his dog a break, then he passed me while I was fixing my socks, then I passed him while he was having a rest, then again he passed me and then finally I passed him at the end of the walk and said ‘Fancy seeing you here!’ And we both laughed. Possibly you had to be there, but it was just a ‘laughing with strangers’ kind of day.

The rail trail ends at one of the highest points in town and walking down into the town feels a bit like coming home. I must have looked like I knew where I was going because a lady watched several people pass before she jumped out of her car and asked me for directions. I think my giant backpack makes people think I know where everything is. I mean, I do know where most things are, and she wanted to walk up Latrigg so I confidently pointed out where to go and told her about the car park behind the hill.

Market day! I somehow managed to capture an image with hardly any people but I actually had to dodge and weave my way down the footpaths.

I walked straight to the campsite on the lake and put up my tent. There were only two other little tents in the large space next to the water, however the line of caravans waiting to get in stretched out of sight. I was later told that caravans need to book at least six months, if not 18 months in advance, and here I was just walking in.

The reception was closed when I arrived but when I went back to pay later on they still had my details in their system and I found that very satisfying for no reason at all.

I walked to Booths, which is a fancy supermarket around the corner, and gazed wistfully at all the posh food before buying some hand cream. Being blasted by the wind all day is starting to take its toll.

Then I walked to one of my favourite cafes, Mrs F’s.

I had an amazing zucchini soup there last time (there is such a thing!) and, despite the whole town being rammed with people, there was no one in the cafe except the son of the owner, who told me his mum would be back in a minute. I was in no hurry so I sat down. The owner came back and I had some tea and a intimidatingly large slice of coffee and walnut cake. I wouldn’t have chosen that flavour usually, but I’ve been reading Stephanie Plum novels and the characters are always talking about coffee cake.

The cafe is a delightfully eclectic mix of old furniture, Knick knacks and mismatched stuff. The owner is from London, although she had been to Australia. She had bought a car with some friends and driven from Melbourne to Perth and loved it. Today was her daughter’s 16th birthday and she was expected imminently, school having just finished for the day. Sadly I left before the daughter and her friends appeared – my impression from the discussion between mother and son was that her arrival was going to be quite dramatic and possibly full of teenage attitude, but I finished my cake and tea too quickly and decided to move on.

Afterwards I bought a couple of postcards, a book, and went to have a drink and sit in the Dog and Gun, a place Luke and I enjoyed on our last trip.

A couple came in with two very calm Siberian huskies and sat next to me. We had a little chat about their beautiful dogs and then everyone else who walked past also stopped to chat about their dogs and compliment them. People even pulled dog treats out of their pockets to give them. Initially I thought ‘how nice’ and then I thought ‘what a pain in the bum’ – it must be annoying to only have people want to talk to you about one topic (that being said, most people only want to talk to me about their relations in Perth). I said this to them but they graciously said they didn’t mind.

Not my photo but this is pretty much what they looked like.

I guess it’s to be expected in this dog-obsessed country, and if you’re going to walk around with two canine supermodels you can’t be surprised when the paparazzi follow you everywhere.

Next was back to the campsite to have a shower before the cold set in. Apart from going to bed clean, the other benefit of an afternoon shower is that the block has just been cleaned. Also there was no one else using it, which was nice!

There’s a really lovely garden around the shower building and it has a pair of pheasants living in it!

After I was dressed and dry I wandered down to the water and got talking to a couple from Liverpool (Caroline and Dave) with a cute little fluffy dog (Milo). We talked about travel – they had bought a camper van recently and we’re testing it out before taking a month long trip to Scotland in May. We chatted for ages but then the wind picked up and I walked back into town for a dinner of Thai, during which I was happy to have my noise canceling AirPods to hand in order to drown out the extremely loud table of tourists that sat down very close to me (and they ordered CHIPS. In a Thai restaurant!). The other couple nearby looked like they wished they’d brought their AirPods too.

That’s them, behind my delicious fish cakes.

Back at the campsite the sun was slowly going down. I spent a while watching the colours change before getting into my sleeping bag (where I am writing this) to discover that someone in one of the neighbouring tents is snoring so loudly I think the people in the caravans must be able to hear him. Thank god for noise canceling earbuds… again!

View of Skiddaw on the way back to the campsite.

Stupid Canada geese on the lake. One of them attacked me on my last trip here. I mean, I don’t know if it was one of these specific geese but they all have that look about them.

So, my first night actually camping. Dave told me there’s supposed to be an hour of extremely high winds tomorrow during the day so we’ll see how that goes!

I nearly forgot: I saw a guy swimming today. Hopefully someone has alerted the nearest asylum to let them know one of the inmates has escaped.

19Apr2023

A Windy Walk Across Matterdale Common

by Miss Penny Black

After a late start I finally left the cosy confines of the Royal Hotel and set out uphill (as always) and on the way to Threlkeld.

Try saying ‘Threlkeld’ out loud five times quickly. On paper it looks like a perfectly normal name for a place but I feel like an idiot when I try to say it out loud. Ridiculous. I was afraid to meet anyone along the way in case they asked me where I was going, and considered changing my destination to avoid the awkwardness but the route I’d plotted looked so good I decided to stick to my plan.

OK, so it doesn’t look very exciting on paper and I seem to have added an extra pink line, but the point is, it goes through nowhere.

The skies darkened as I headed up hill and the wind picked up. Not good, but the meteorological wizards said it wasn’t supposed to rain and I chose, against all previous experience, to believe them.

Catkins, or pussy willow. Haven’t seen this since I was a kid!

Farmland gave way to Matterdale Common, which seemed very wide but there were a few cars in the car park right before the gate, so I thought I’d probably see a few people.

Over a little bridge and onto the common.

Up to this point I’d thought of commons as small green bits in the middle of villages, but this is the other kind.

Can you see the tiny path in the distance? It was about 6km away.

While walking across the common could’ve been dramatically improved by a severe reduction in gale-force, freezing cold winds, it was also magnificent to be out in such beautiful, open landscape alone.

I had bought a packed lunch from the Royal Hotel so I got to enjoy another uranium-enriched curry chicken sandwich and all the accompanying bits.

I did eat my lunch crouched over in a ditch to get out of the wind, but I still enjoyed it enormously.

I don’t know how something can look so bad but taste so good.

Walking is like meditation and it’s interesting to see where my mind wanders. I spend a lot of time re-writing song lyrics to suit my situation. I wish I could remember some of them now! I’ve never thought of myself as musical so I don’t know why this is where my brain goes.

All the grass is brown, and the sky was grey. I went for a walk on an April day. 🎶

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about why I like doing this so much (the walking, not the song lyrics). Being in this landscape is like walking through an art gallery all day, every day. Every flower is beautiful, every mountain spectacular, and I feel like it suits me and I fit in. No matter how the weather changes it just shows the landscape in a new light and damp and misty or bright and sunny, it’s as close to perfect as anywhere I’ve ever been.

I was talking to the family yesterday about Switzerland, as that is where their son lives. Switzerland is incredible. It’s the most dramatic scenery I’ve ever seen – but it’s inaccessible to me. I’ll never be fit enough or have the skills to climb those mountains. I don’t speak the language. Here it’s just right.

Eventually I made it across the common and met my first person of the day, another solo woman who was heading to Helvellyn YHA. We had a chat and moaned about the wind before parting ways.

The only other people I saw were some guys with dirt bikes.

Walking towards Blencathra felt like coming home, I’ve walked through the valley behind it several times.

After the common it was all downhill into Threlkeld and to the Horse and Farrier, a quite fancy pub that has been going since 1688, although probably not with nachos and waffles on the menu.

My feet were a bit sore from the rocky, uneven path and my knees had a few minor twinges so I spent the late afternoon off my feet on my room then had a delicious dinner downstairs, followed by zoom with Daniel to discuss the Spanish adventure in a bit over a week.

Tomorrow a walk to Keswick. Can I actually be bothered to camp? It’ll come down to the price of accommodation and the likelihood of rain. Either way, I’ll enjoy it!

18Apr2023

Dockray: High Force and Watermillock Common

by Miss Penny Black

As my blister isn’t getting any better or worse, I thought I’d take it easy today and break the day into two small walks, one on either side of the village.

In the morning I climbed halfway up Gowbarrow Fell and would’ve gone higher but I wasn’t keen on trying to climb a drystone wall.

I walked up to that tiny dark clump in the middle then down again. I really should’ve checked the map properly to see if there was a way to the top.

Then I walked down the valley to the first few sections of High Force and was then told by some people that the main section was closed due to a fallen tree.

It was another stunningly beautiful day, so I had a sandwich and cider in the sun. The sandwich was so good I order a packed lunch for my walk onward to Troutbeck tomorrow. Curried chicken – I’ve never eaten a sandwich quite this brightly coloured!

The photo doesn’t really do it justice, I feel like it was almost glow-in-the-dark yellow.

After lunch I rested my feet for a bit and had a phone call with Luke and his parents. Lea and Pete have just arrived in Lille, so they are much closer to my time zone. They are travelling around with friends of theirs and then meeting Luke and I halfway through May when we come back to the Lake District.

Next was a walk up the hill behind the pub. It looked like a Goldilocks level for me – not too steep, not too gravelly, not too busy! In fact, I didn’t see a single person between leaving the pub and getting back.

First I headed for the nearest small hill and made it to the top quite easily. The ground was mostly sphagnum moss and lumps of dry grass.

I hadn’t taken any water so I didn’t want to go too far, but I decided to head up to the next rise, then the next rise, until I realised I was up very high!

High enough to see Helvellyn in the distance. Helvellyn isn’t the highest fell, but it’s where Striding Edge is. Mum had to walk it when she was a kid because grandpa was a mountain climber and thought it was totally fine for a small child. I’ll find a photo from the internet to show you what it’s like.

Anyhow, it was exciting to see it from a distance. But then I saw something even more exciting, a fighter jet! I saw one on my last trip, whooshing down over Coniston. This time I saw one almost skim Ullswater, it was much lower than where I was standing. It was going too fast for me to get my camera out but here’s a photo with the level it was flying.

Am I too excited about this? It seemed very thrilling at the time but maybe it was just really loud.

Anyhow, I thought it was cool, then I did manage to get a photo of a much larger airforce plane going overhead.

Also fairly low but not quite as impressive.

The whole while I was climbing the wind was getting stronger and stronger. Despite the sun it was quite cold.

But I just kept going up and up. The tufts of grass made good footholds and not carrying a bag made it all easier. In the end I made it to the top of the disappointingly-named Common Fell. Literally the worst name of all the fells. There’s fells named Dollywagon Pike, Stang, Swineside Knot, High Spy and Crinkle Crags. I manage to have my best day yet on Common Fell. Oh well. Maybe the reason no one else was there was the unassuming name?

One day I will lose a shoe. But not today!

Maybe it was because half the surface of the fell was ankle deep bog. At one point I started singing that Annie Lennox song ‘Walking On Broken Glass’ but I changed the words to ‘walking on spagnum moss’ and thought… maybe I’ve spent too much time on my own today.

The moss was a lot better than loose shale though, and I don’t mind wet feet. The softness under foot was probably quite good for my joints and I didn’t feel very tired when I got back to the hotel.

I washed my hair then went out to sit in the sun in the beer garden. Earlier in the morning I’d had a chat to a lady from Montreal and her partner and then they (and their son) asked me if I’d like to join their table in the beer garden as I was sitting alone.

Well, you know me. I sat with them outside for an hour or so then we all went in for dinner and sat together. We talked about our journeys – the man’s father had died (at 103!) of Covid and they were taking his ashes from Scotland to Dorset, where he had wanted them buried. They had stopped in Cumbria for two nights on the way and had visited Wordsworth’s cottage this morning. A perfect time of year for celebrating the life of the man who single handedly made daffodils synonymous with the Lake District.

The man had been an artist and they showed me photographs they had taken of many of his artworks. They were all very beautiful and many were of the English countryside.

We also talked about books. Their son’s favourite genre was science fiction so we swapped authors and talked about our favourites.

All in all another delightful day spent doing things I love!

I finally got a photo of people I’ve met!

18Apr2023

Patterdale to Dockray: A Misty Morning, Daffodils and More Dogs

by Miss Penny Black

Staying at the YHA meant an unlimited English breakfast and I was making the most of it after all my exertions. I had booked the following two nights at the Royal Hotel in Dockray, a village so small that no one in Patterdale (only 5 miles distant) had heard of it.

After packing my bag and using the wifi to post my last blog entry, I set off. I immediately realised my blister was going to make the day very unpleasant if I didn’t do something about it. I hobbled to the general store in Glenridding and bought some medical tape (kind of papery in texture) and wrapped my little toe. This seemed to mostly stop the stabbing pain and the blood seeping through my newly-cleaned socks.

The fells were shrouded in mist and the distant reaches of the lake were ghostly, which made for some lovely photos and a nice cool walk.

I had a chat to a couple who asked where I was from and told me that they’d read in the news that Melbourne had just been declared Australia’s largest city. Only a few minutes later Daniel, (with whom I’ll be doing the Camino) messaged me with a news article saying the same. How funny to only really communicate twice in the morning and both about the same piece of news from the other side of the world.

I also had quite a long chat with a lady I’d met the previous day. She had been walking in the opposite direction on the far side of the lake with her dog and husband, who had a heart condition and was looking a bit pale.

When I met her today it was just her and the dog, her husband had hurt his knee on the previous day’s walk. She was clearly an extremely active and energetic person and her husband was not, which must make holidays in places like this very difficult. She had thought to come alone but then he had insisted on coming and now was injured. We both shook our heads at his folly and talked about travel.

She had wanted to go to South America this year but the trip had been cancelled at the last minute due to unrest in one of the places that was on the itinerary. I gave her the blog address and said if she ever made it to Australia to look me up – so if you’re reading this, hello! I realised we didn’t swap names so please leave a comment if you did end up here and I’ll give you my proper details!

Most of the west side of the Ullswater Way that I saw looked a lot like this.

I stopped for lunch at the Aira Force cafe, which was lovely but crowded and swarming with screaming children. It came as a bit of a shock because I’ve hardly seen any children so far and the day had been so quiet leading up to this point. After having a delicious croque monsieur, I walked around the cafe to the toilet block only to find a car park with over 100 cars. This is where all those people came from!

Delicious, but putting cheese on top of a sandwich does make it hard to hold.

The Lake District is a bit like this. Miles of quiet countryside and then pockets of tourists all jam-packed together. I guess anyone with mobility issues, children or limited time is just going to go to the main attractions. Aira Force is the biggest (highest? Widest? I don’t know) waterfall in the Lake District (in England? Great Britain?). There were so many people I couldn’t be bothered (hence why I know nothing about it) so I walked to Dockray via the narrow road rather than up along the waterfall trail. if the weather is nice I’ll maybe go back tomorrow.

The road was really narrow and I didn’t like how fast the cars were whizzing by, so I took a boggy detour through a field and up a hill. It probably took twice as long but the views were better and it felt safer, if damper.

Despite being a relatively short day’s walking it took me ages due to all the dawdling and chatting along the water. I got to the Royal Hotel at Dockray at about 3pm, glad to be off my feet and happy to finally find a pub with a half decent cider on tap (Aspall’s). Cider isn’t as popular in the north as in the south, unfortunately, and many pubs will only have Strongbow on tap and nothing in bottles. Aspall’s isn’t really traditional but it’s nice enough and the taste reminds me of so many summer days sitting outside pubs and enjoying the sun.

The pub seemed nice but there were no stools at the bar (always disappointing) so I grabbed a book from the shelf in the hallway and sat down to read and drink and rest. the book was very good, a bit like Bill Bryson’s style and very funny.

Dinner was pie and vegetables and I ended up chatting to a very nice couple who were sitting near me and had a beautiful two year old collie. Apparently Meena usually takes a long time to become comfortable with new people but she sidled up to me for pats after about half an hour and then stayed next to me for ages, continually blocking everyone’s path to the toilets.

After a couple of glasses of wine I was ready for bed and looking forward to a day without my huge pack!

16Apr2023

WinterCrag to Patterdale

by Miss Penny Black

I had an excellent night’s sleep between 11pm and 7am, which led me (mistake I fly, it turned out) to believe all symptoms of jet lag were behind me.

I packed my bag and went downstairs, taking one more, slightly wistful, look at the wallpaper in my bedroom. I know this would never suit a mid-century house in Melbourne suburbia but…

Before I left I found Rachel, who ran the farm, and asked if I might see her dogs. She seemed a bit hesitant and explained that, in the shed where the dogs were kept was a pile of dead sheep. I said I grew up in the country and was fine fine with that (which I sort of am, I know animals have to die and it was lambing season) however the first thing I saw in the shed was a lamb’s head lying on the floor, no body attached. Rachel moved it out of the way but it wasn’t quite what I expected to see.

Anyhow, I got to pat a few dogs and saw Minty, her champion border collie. I didn’t end up taking any photos because of the dismembered ovine situation, but the dogs were interesting and some were pure collie, others were kelpie mixes.

Here’s one I saw the day before. A collie-kelpie mix.

The walk from WinterCrag to Patterdale was only about 11km but, after an easy start along the road, it became an up and down, stony zig zag along the edge of Ullswater.

Along the way I saw a lot of sheep, a few small waterfalls and a lot of mossy rocks.

At one point I chatted to a couple from Canberra while I stopped for a drink then stopped a bit further on a rocky outcrop and scared the life out of a woman who didn’t see me sitting up on the ledge as she rounded the bend.

Giant lumps of … I want to say slate? Granite?

Lots of cute Herdwick sheep, one of the most popular local breeds.

Tree roots and rocks are beautiful, but it does mean spending all your time looking at your feet.

I hadn’t booked any accommodation, figuring that if worst came to worst, I could camp at the YHA, but the lady at a cafe on the way recommended the Patterdale Hotel, saying they had rooms for £40, which is incredibly cheap for this area.

As I got got closer to Patterdale the hills got higher and there were a few more people on the trail, some running and one or two riding bikes.

When I got there they were booked out and so was the pub further on, The White Lion, which the lady at the cafe said she could not recommend, simply because it was sometimes open and sometimes not and sometimes doing food and sometimes not. I certainly got a somewhat ‘Fawlty Towers’ vibe when I went in to ask.

The apologetic guy behind the bar said they were moving furniture around upstairs so, while they normally had rooms, right now the rooms were full.. of stuff. Half the downstairs bar was also full of stuff, including a gigantic carved lion, Egyptian sarcophagus, fish tank and about a hundred other random objects.

He told me a friend of his was doing music and comedy later that night and I said I’d come back for dinner and the show. To say I had low expectations would be an understatement, but I had nothing better to do so why not?

I headed a little way further down the road to find the YHA had just one private room left but I couldn’t check in for an hour so I sat in their lounge to wait and rest my feet.

When I took my shoes off I was intrigued to find that blood from a blister had soaked through two layers of socks on one of my feet and I hadn’t felt a thing. This happened last time I was hiking here. I’ve got a very low threshold for pain so it really surprises me when this sort of thing happened and I don’t even notice.

I’ve been wearing these shoes for a year and had no problems so maybe it’s the greater distances and more varied terrain. Walking on uneven rocky surfaces is certainly working my muscles and joints more than they are used to, even on short walks.

Outside the lounge window was a bird feeder and at least a dozen different tiny birds flew in and out. The hostel, quite helpfully, had a bird identification chart on the wall so I entertained myself trying to pick which was which. At least half of them were Tits and you’ll notice I’m resisting making jokes about them, which is difficult when a matching pair of Great Tits arrived.

I had though jet lag was finally behind me, with my 11pm to 7am sleep last night, but once again I was assailed by the mid-afternoon drowse. I checked in at 5pm then decided to walk to Glenridding, just a couple of kilometres further down the road.

The store there was still open so I bought a packet of exotic chips and then walked back. On my short walk I saw two tiny rabbits nibbling at the lawn of the Patterdale Hotel, then spied a doe behind the tree line.

They did not taste at all luke prawns, which was probably just as well.

I returned via the White Lion, thinking to have some dinner, only to be told a long story about the kitchen being closed because of the extractor fan, the log fire and the whole place filling up with smoke. Thankfully I had a backup plan (the YHA) so I just had a gin and tonic (after being told they had no traditional ciders or white wine) so I had the worst gin of my life (apple and insect repellant, to go by the flavour) and said I’d come back for the act that was happening later.

A drink in the White Lion after the smoke had cleared.

After a dinner of lasagna at the YHA I headed back out. I’d had a chat to the young people working at the front counter, who had also looked a bit dubious about The White Lion’s reliability in offering any decent entertainment, and told them that I would give them a report on how the night of ‘music and comedy’ turned out. With expectations as low as they could possibly be (at this point it wouldn’t have been surprised to arrive and find the place had burned down or simply disappeared into a hole in the ground) I set off.

I arrived to very little noise emanating from the hotel, despite being late for the show. The barman was standing in the doorway looking down the road and gave me a hug when he saw me and said I was late. I reminded him that this was his fault, since they no longer offered dinner. I got a glass of wine (red, obviously) and sat down, the only person on the room apart from the musician, a middle aged, slightly portly man, who was playing guitar and singing covers.

He asked where I was from and said he hadn’t met any Australians in the area in years and we talked a bit before another middle-aged couple came in and sat down. They were also staying at the YHA.

The musician (his name was Decca) said hello to them and asked where they were from. They got into a conversation about Decca’s previous jobs prior to being a travelling pub musician, and he said he’d been a bus driver and worked for Outward Bound, an educational institution that is all about getting people into outdoor pursuits.

The man Decca was talking to said what a coincidence, he too used to work for Outward Bound and used to go overseas on mountaineering excursions with groups. In fact just last week his sister had found a packet of letters in her attic that this man had been given in Pakistan, thirty four years ago on a climbing expedition, but never managed to deliver to the mountaineers he knew in England. He was given the letters by a Canadian man who needed them sent on – this was how mail got around the world from remote places before the internet. People just handed things to others who were going in the right direction and preyed they eventually got to the person on the envelope.

One of the letters was for a guy named Al Smith and it was from this Canadian man’s daughter, who had met Al in England previously but had since gone home to Canada. This couple in the pub, with this pile of ancient letters, were going to try to trace the owners of all the letters, but particularly Al Smith, who the man had known at the time through the organisation. They hoped that if they could find him one day, they could track down all the people the other letters were addressed to. Having heard Decca mention Outward Bound, they asked him if he happened to remember a guy named Al Smith.

Remember him? He’d just spoken to him last week! They used to go fell running and biking around Ullswater in their twenties and were still close mates to this day. So Decca immediately phoned Al but unfortunately the reception in the pub was so bad that he said he’d try again when he got out of the valley and get the couple’s details so he could make sure they got in touch.

Well, you can imagine how gobsmacked we all were by this series of coincidences. I had to get Decca’s contact details to find out what happened with the letter. The couple had not even opened any of the mail and we were all speculating as to the subject matter. Al was apparently now happily married to an English woman (apparently he was quite the lady’s man back in the day) but could his life have been very different if this letter had been passed along decades ago?

Trying to explain the convoluted story to Al over the phone.

Decca played ‘I Come From A Land Down Under’ for me and we both realised we only knew half the lyrics. I had a good chat to the couple before I left and then walked back to the YHA in the dark, marvelling at the way life goes. We’d all agreed that if there’d been even a few more people at the pub that night the whole conversation probably wouldn’t have happened and the couple might never have traced down Al and sent the letter onwards.

I’m not sure if I’ve really done the story justice, and please don’t ask me to clarify any of the details, but if I hear from Decca I’ll definitely follow up!